


Guts Over Fear

by pastomatoes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Consent Play, M/M, Military scenario? kinda?, PWP, Smut, They're kinky motherfuckers, a little tlc at the end, color system, literally pure smut, minor boot kink, prucan, prussia knows what he's doing, seriously prucan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastomatoes/pseuds/pastomatoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You heard me. Get on the ground where you belong and kiss my fucking boots."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guts Over Fear

Matthew swallows, trying to wet his flaccid tongue. His rifle is slipping from his grip; damn his sweaty hands. He wants to clench his fists, dig half-moon shapes into his palms with his fingernails, wants to reach up and swipe the blond locks of hair out of his eyes, but doing so would require dropping his weapon, and that's the one thing he's been instructed not to do, aside from _Stay quiet or you're fucked to hell, kiddo._

Matthew knows that this is just a scenario; everything is planned and accounted for. He knows that if he so much as mouths the word "red," his boyfriend will drop everything to make sure he is okay, physically, emotionally, _mentally…_

And yet the adrenaline rushing through him at the moment is very real.

The woods are dense, scattered with thick brush and thin trees. The heat is stifling, making the air heavy and difficult to breathe. How long he's been trekking through here- hell, if he knows. His boots are tiresome to lift, his uniform is sticking annoyingly to his salty skin, his arms are starting to sag with the weight of his (unloaded) gun, and he has no idea when-

There is no sound to warn Matthew of the other's presence. It happens in a split second: His mouth is covered by a gloved hand and he's pulled back against a broad chest. He begins scrambling immediately, kicking vigorously even after he's lifted so that his feet dangle inches above the dirt floor. His eyes widen as he struggles against the grip, trying to pry the hand away with trembling fingers, oxygen, oxygen, _oxygen._

Just as he starts to think that he's going to pass out, he's thrown forward, tossed carelessly to the ground. He inhales sharply, filling his lungs to the brim, and then there's unforgiving pressure on his spine. Matthew gets the first view of his captor as the man bends and plucks the rifle from his grip with ease. "Is this what they're giving you nowadays?" the man snarls, studying the gun with distaste, turning it over in his hands. "Fucking pitiful, just like its owner." 

Matthew tries to get up, but the boot on his back presses down firmer at the threat of movement, and he's forced to- "Stay still, kid, or you're gonna have a bullet through that pretty little skull of yours real soon." Matthew's sharp inhale must be audible, because the man cackles again. He tosses the gun to the side, letting it tumble to the ground a couple of yards away before removing his foot, only to grasp the collar of Matthew's uniform and force him to roll over onto his back.

The man smirks, falling to his knees so that he's straddling Matthew. "Listen here," he says in a voice that certainly demands attention, but Matthew refuses, tossing his head to avoid eye contact. "Name's Gilbert, since you seem like the sentimental kind that needs to know names before getting down to business. What about you, Birdie?" He tilts his head curiously, white hair fanning across an equally pale forehead, and Matthew huffs indignantly through his nose, pressing his lips into a stubborn line… 

No answer. 

"Alright," Gilbert says, a wicked smile sneaking across his mouth. He shrugs and throws his leg over Matthew's form, standing again. Matthew glowers at Gilbert from below, propping himself up on his elbows. He expects to be reprimanded for the act of defiance, but nothing could have prepared him for the harsh kick that flies at his stomach, forcing the air to rip from his lungs. 

He gasps, rolling onto his belly and clutching at it with shaking, clawing hands. His head reels when he coughs up blood, sprinkling the ground with red. Gilbert is ruthless despite this, grasping Matthew's hair and _yanking_ , forcing him onto his back again, his original position. The Prussian kneels beside Matthew's face, grinning, still holding onto those blond locks like a leash.

"This is pathetic," Gilbert says through a sharp scowl. His free hand grasps Matthew's jaw, fingers clenching with unshakeable strength. His knee comes up to press between the Canadian's thighs and Matthew bites back a pitiful whimper because he's shamelessly hard. "You call yourself a soldier…" Gilbert continues, a smirk playing at his lips as he grabs Matthew's dog tags with the hand that had held his jaw and reads his name. "Well I'm going to break you. I'm going to make you sweat. I'm going to make you beg, Matthew Williams, and I'm going to fuck you until you kiss the ground I walk on." 

Matthew can't think of anything to say-

So, naturally, he spits in Gilbert's face.

Gilbert recoils but doesn't lessen his grip on Matthew's hair, wiping the saliva from his cheek without much of a reaction beyond momentary disgust. 

"You've got balls, soldier," the albino comments, sounding almost like a friendly compliment, but it's quickly followed by an instruction as he stands and releases Matthew: "Get on your hands and knees." His jaw flexes, eyes narrowing menacingly. Matthew glares at him, violet eyes meeting red, and it stirs more frustration deep in the Prussian's stomach. Gilbert's impatience is obvious as he strides over, takes a grip on Matthew's blond locks again- "Learn to take orders, slut-" and tosses him forward. The force sends Matthew flying into the unforgiving ground face first. He immediately attempts to scramble back to his feet, managing to lay his palms flat against the cold dirt before Gilbert's boot is on his neck, keeping him strictly in place for a second time already.

Then Gilbert presses his chest against Matthew's back… And there's breath, hot and snake-like, sneaking along each ridge of Matthew's earlobe as Gilbert whispers with a voice that crackles like an old radio: " _Are you afraid, Schlampe?_ " 

Matthew hyperventilates, breaking out into a cold sweat, his skin downright crawling and his fingers trembling uncontrollably around the dirt in their grip. He's about to cry, he realizes, about to cry because he's helpless and not in control and can't run and can't even breathe and _yes, I'm afraid but-_

"…Mattie…?" This voice is different: It's gentle, soft, wraps around Matthew like a security blanket, and it brings the Canadian sinking smoothly back into reality. He lifts his eyelids to see Gilbert, _Gilbert_ Gilbert, who asks, "Matthew, what's your color?" to which the younger man breaks a grin and replies:

"Bright green."

There's a laugh, not a dark laugh, just a loving, Gilbert-shaking-his-head-at-his-impossibly-cute-boyfriend sort of laugh- but it's only there for a moment before it's replaced by Gilbert's character and Matthew is forced into a hunched-over, sad excuse for a standing position by the back of his jacket, Gilbert's grip on the material so tight that the seams start to hiss and split. 

"Kiss my boots," Gilbert says, husky and hoarse.

"What?" Matthew asks limply, because he doesn't understand- 

"You heard me. Get on the ground where you belong and kiss my fucking boots." 

Oh. _Oh._

"There's a good boy…" Gilbert whispers, sounding like a father proud of his son when the Canadian kneels, almost as if he's about to worship, and really, he supposes he is. Matthew leans forward, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the worn leather of Gilbert's left boot and sucking at the tips of the laces, swallowing purposefully. Gilbert would be lying if he said it wasn't the hottest thing he's ever seen (since their last scenario, anyway, in which Matthew had dominated the living hell out of him, pinning him to a counter and pounding into him and all whilst wearing that damn Mountie uniform- dear _god_ ).

The Prussian can't take it anymore; he reaches down and tangles his hands in the kid's hair. The touch is soft, but only for a lovely moment before Matthew's hair is nearly ripped from his scalp and he's pulled further up, forced onto his knees, his head level with-

"C'mon, bitch. Don't pretend you've never sucked a dick before."

Matthew glowers up at his captor, his jaw set as he attempts in vain to escape Gilbert's grip, twisting like a caged animal. Gilbert only laughs again, his grip not tightening because there's no need: It's achieving its goal of keeping his hostage in place. "You can either open your mouth yourself or I can force it open. Either way, I'm going to fucking use it-" "I'd rather fucking die, you sack of shit," Matthew growls, his fingers clasping like snares around Gilbert's thighs. 

Gilbert laughs, thwacking the back of Matthew's head hard enough to make the Canadian yelp and jolt. Gilbert uses one of his hands to undo his belt, unbuckling it and sliding it from its loops. "Go ahead, Birdie… Get to work," he instructs. Matthew feels the heat rise to his face and color his ears red. Realizing the older man's grip is far too strong to tear away from, he reluctantly reaches forward to pull Gilbert's pants down to his ankles. 

Gilbert seizes control over Matthew's mouth the moment the blond's lips press against the tip of his cock, in no mood to take it slowly. He forces his way down Matthew's tight throat, which spasms immediately in retaliation to the sudden and unwelcome intrusion. Matthew gags, tears already building in his eyes as he desperately tries to force Gilbert out, clawing at the man's thighs and whimpering like a mess. He starts to wish he hadn't retaliated, wonders if being compliant would have made his captor be more gentle… 

Matthew tries to calm himself down enough to breathe a sufficient amount of air through his nose, but Gilbert's ramming into his mouth and controlling the violent bobbing of his head and air becomes nonexistent. Matthew gives in to this other world, one where Gilbert somehow manages to replace the need for air with his cock, and Matthew starts depending on Gilbert's dick like a lifeline, suckling and whimpering, brows knitted and pleading wordlessly, and he looks a right mess… 

The feeling of Matthew struggling, the sight of him on his knees and unable to escape, the begging for something he can't name with moans that reverberate through Gilbert's cock and up his spine- it's nearly enough to make the Prussian come on the spot. 

When the tears start spilling and rolling down Matthew's cheeks, Gilbert reluctantly pulls out, making a reminder to speak with Matthew about the possibility of coming down Matthew's throat sometime (not that he hadn't before, but now that he thinks about it, it's been awhile- what a shame). 

"Look at you, soldier," the albino pants, staring down at Matthew's flushed face. "Finally taking orders." Matthew doesn't answer, can't answer- He falls backwards, gasping for oxygen and trembling as his head throbs and reels. Despite his breathlessness, he has enough of a mind to scramble away, heaving as he reaches desperately for the gun that had been discarded on the ground nearby. 

Gilbert grins, stepping over Matthew's lean frame, which is shaking beyond belief. "I certainly commend you for trying," he says, cackling as he reaches down and snags the gun from the kid with ease before dropping to his knees, straddling Matthew's waist. "But unfortunately, I take what I want, and whether that involves fighting or fucking, well, that just depends who I'm up against." 

Matthew jerks his hips up, twisting his body in a desperate attempt to throw Gilbert off, but he's immediately put in his place. Gilbert clicks his tongue, shakes his head as he rams the gun horizontally across Matthew's throat, making him panic and attempt to pry the weapon away. Gilbert pins Matthew's hands above his head, flush against the dirt.

Gilbert removes the gun from Matthew's throat, tossing it to the side again. He leans forward, nipping at the Canadian's jawline and down his neck to his collarbone as he feels him up with rough, calloused hands. "I'm going to own every fucking inch of you," he swears against Matthew's skin, and the blond tosses his head back and forth, clenching his eyes shut as the tears start escaping again. Gilbert ignores the quiet weeping in favor of tearing Matthew's uniform open, buttons flying. 

If there's one thing Gilbert will never tire of, it's Matthew's skin: snow-white and rippling, covering quivering, firm muscles. His skin is flawless and unblemished and just _begging_ to be marked, whether it be with Gilbert's teeth, his nails, his unyielding grip, his come. There isn't anything that wouldn't look beautiful against that canvas… Intoxicating. 

Gilbert wastes no time in biting the dip of Matthew's collarbone, eliciting a sharp cry and wriggling that nearly makes him lose his balance. He continues kissing downward and hell, even _upward_ , sucking hickeys that will be impossible for Matthew to hide or others to miss because Gilbert knows, fucking _knows_ , that everyone wants Matthew, would kill to have him, wishes they were in Gilbert's place. It lights a fire of possessiveness deep inside of him that urges him to mark Matthew as his. He digs his nails into the younger man's skin, dragging them down his chest and watching angry red lines rise on porcelain skin- mine, _mine._

Gilbert pulls back to observe and appreciate his work, a mess of red pearls and darkening bruises. It's still for a moment, nothing but panting and the darting of wide-blown pupils… 

And then Gilbert tosses his legs over Matthew's form, sliding off of him with an, "On your hands and knees. That's a familiar position for you, yeah?" But Matthew doesn't move, just keeps his eyes closed as if in prayer, and that earns him another "Remember to take commands, whore," as Gilbert shoves the kid over onto his chest before grabbing his hips and pulling back, forcing his ass up, positioning him on his elbows, yanking his pants down and-

Gilbert grins, immediately taking Matthew's hard cock into his hand. "I knew you liked this. C'mon, you want it. You want me to fuck you until you forget your pathetic existence, until you can't even think-" "Fuck off!" "Aw, Birdie, I'll bet you fantasize about stuff like this all the time! You dirty slut, you're lucky I'm even indulging your perverted little ass-" "I said fuck off!" Matthew gasps, gritting his teeth. He flails recklessly, his elbow flying back with unspeakable force and knocking Gilbert breathless.

The Prussian somehow manages not to topple over despite his spinning head because Jesus, the kid nearly snapped a rib in half. "Stop fucking acting like you don't want it!" he shouts irritably, slamming his hostage's face into the dirt and he doesn't have to check to know that Matthew's nose is a bloody mess now. Gilbert grabs his belt from the ground, ignoring Matthew's bared teeth and cuffing his wrists together so tightly the Canadian is fairly certain he can feel his wrists cracking as they sit in the small of his back.

"Oh, _Birdie_ ," Gilbert coos, and his hand resumes sliding up and down Matthew's cock, stopping to toy with the head and tracing the vein on the underside on its descent. His smirk widens when Matthew twists helplessly against the feeling, face contorting as he suppresses a whimper. "Just think of it as a favor… You want it, and I swear to god I'll give it to you until you can't even breathe." 

Matthew can't prevent the low keen from escaping him.

Gilbert pulls his hand away from Matthew's cock to suck on his fingers, wetting them until they're dripping sufficiently and then tracing one of them around the Canadian's hole. He waits awhile, wanting Matthew as needy as possible, before pushing it inside (and fuck, the high whine he earns for it is too delicious for words). Matthew struggles but can't get away, not with Gilbert holding onto the belt that binds his wrists together. The fact that Matthew's impossibly tense doesn't stop Gilbert from adding another finger and probing, curling, waiting for that signature wail of pleasure that means he's found the kid's prostate… 

And though he's heard it countless times, it doesn't prevent Gilbert from shuddering when Matthew finally _does_ cry out, melting and relaxing as his mouth falls open and his eyes slide closed. Gilbert holds back the urge to fuck Matthew into the ground, wanting to draw out more of those noises, wanting to make Matthew shiver and beg and give in before he's even taken him. 

Gilbert strokes Matthew's cock with the hand that had been gripping the belt, makes Matthew purr and babble, eyes rolling back as his knees start sliding apart. The older man pulls his fingers out, patience snapping, and the loss of contact makes Matthew's stomach twist. Typically Gilbert would take pleasure in teasing Mattie, would press the head of his cock against Matthew's ass but do nothing more, bite at his earlobe and laugh because he was in complete control… Now, though, he hardly gives Matthew any time to adjust, thrusting into him and curling against his spine, biting Matthew's neck to keep him in place.

Gilbert fucks Matthew like that, long strokes of his cock, pulling away from Matthew's back and placing one of his hands between the younger man's shoulder blades, keeping him down, _take it, Birdie._ Matthew does, chest convulsing, near-weeping and gasping at the friction, the pressure, hard and unyielding against his prostate. His fingers curl, nails digging crescent shapes into the palms of his own hands. 

Matthew feels himself beginning to fall apart, the warmth sprouting in his stomach and spreading to his fingertips, making his head reel and his skin buzz and he can't feel anything but _yes, Gilbert_ and he's on the brink of coming, just needs something more…

It's then that Gilbert reaches forward, hand flush against Matthew mouth and nose, preventing any air from getting to him. Matthew keens, head reeling. The sensation of losing his breath is fucking fantastic, even more so when it's prolonged until he feels near blacking out. His lack of oxygen heightens every single one of his senses and the feeling of Gilbert's cock is suddenly a million times better than he ever could have imagined, suddenly even more prominent and fulfilling and there, Gilbert, _right there-_

Gilbert pulls his hands away and sends Matthew's head spinning. The kid breaths in sharply, a harsh intake of air as he comes and he never wants it to stop and for awhile it feels as if it won't because Gilbert fucks him through his orgasm, thrusting mercilessly even as Matthew's face slides against the dirt and tears start to prick his eyes and he feels engulfed in pure bliss from coming and being granted air at the same time. 

Gilbert grips Matthew's hair in his hand, tilting the Canadian's head back to nip at the side of his neck, his other hand clutching Matthew's hip so tightly that his nails dig into the skin there. He doesn't relent, not even when blood begins dripping down Matthew's leg, relishing in the sound of Matthew's long, strangled moan. 

"You're mine, you're _mine_ ," is muttered into Matthew's skin as Gilbert grips Matthew's hips and forces him to meet his persistent thrusts. Matthew cries out soundlessly, pressing his forehead firmly against the dirt as his eyes roll into his head and a thread of spit trails from his bottom lip to the ground, making him look mindless and sex-crazed beyond repair. 

Fingers are forced into Matthew's mouth and it makes the Canadian go crazy. He licks ruthlessly at Gilbert's skin, which tastes like an intoxicating mixture of salt and iron. Gilbert grunts at the feeling of Matthew sucking on his digits like they're his cock. Matthew whimpers and begs for something he doesn't know how to articulate- Until he gets it, Gilbert burying himself deep into him and coming with an animalistic growl that makes the hair on Matthew's arms stand… 

The world comes back into view. Matthew becomes aware, vaguely, that things exist beyond Gilbert and his cock. He hazily opens his eyes. 

Gilbert removes himself slowly the moment he regains his bearings, unbuckling the belt from Matthew's hands with a gentleness that would not have seemed possible from the Prussian only moments ago. Matthew starts untangling his arms and Gilbert reaches forward to massage his shoulders as he does, not wanting to strain his boyfriend's muscles any more than he already had.

"You okay?" Gilbert asks, helping the blond onto his back to catch his breath and relax his body. Matthew pants, chest rising and falling deeply as he chuckles. "I'm fucking great," he sighs. Gilbert grins, finally able to laugh. "That was amazing, holy shit!" Matthew continues, staring up at the sky for a moment before looking to Gilbert.

"What should we do next?" he asks. Gilbert shakes his head, still smiling as he scans the Canadian. "I fucking love you, you know that?"


End file.
